


Never An Easy Choice

by sdk



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Adultery, Infidelity, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-02
Updated: 2009-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:59:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdk/pseuds/sdk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a moment Harry could imagine this without the guilt. It wouldn't have to be a dirty little secret, a need that Harry carefully tucked away and buried under day-to-day life. He could have this, always. H/D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never An Easy Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/daily_deviant/profile)[**daily_deviant**](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/daily_deviant/)'s "Everything Old is New" prompts for January. I chose Adultery. I set out to do an H/D version of the short film, [Affair Game](http://vimeo.com/1140840), but Harry and Draco didn't quite play along, so this is more based on that movie rather than a true remix. Special thanks to Aldi and Lilith for their keen betaing skills. All mistakes that remain are my own.

**Never An Easy Choice**

Harry didn't like the Manor, with its tall imposing gates that sneered before letting him pass or the white peacock that turned up its tail every time Harry appeared. He didn't like the House-Elf who greeted him at the door and led him to Draco's private wing, although he was thankful for the detour they took to avoid the room where Harry could still hear the echoes of Hermione's screams. Harry didn't like the Manor, but Draco wouldn't be lowered to having a tawdry affair in Muggle hotel rooms or even a London flat that Harry had offered to purchase for them--for this--for weekend trips where Harry was supposed to be away 'on business' or the ever increasing 'late-night meetings.'

Harry didn't like the Manor, but he pushed his discomfort away because his only other choice was to not see Draco at all. That wasn't a choice Harry was willing to make.

Harry didn't know what Draco told his wife, and he didn't want to know. Once Draco mentioned that she resided in her own private wing before Harry could stop him, and now it was always a constant struggle to forget she was there--in the house somewhere--she was there every night that Harry fucked her husband.

It was hard not to remember.

The House-Elf popped away before Harry opened the door to Draco's suite. He barely got the door shut before Draco spoke.

"I've decided to leave her."

An open bottle of brandy sat on the table next to Draco's armchair. Draco already had a snifter in hand; a matching glass was filled, ready for Harry. Draco's robes were thrown over the back of the chair and his collar was loose, exposing his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed.

It was the same routine as Harry's every other night here, save for Draco's greeting, but that was enough to keep Harry's unease close-by when it normally faded with just a few moments spent in Draco's presence. For the first time since the first night Harry had spent here, he was unsure of he was supposed to do.

"Aren't you going to drink yours?"

"Right." Harry shed his outer robes and dropped them to the floor where they pooled around his feet like spilt ink. Draco raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't comment.

This was wrong. Draco never wasted an opportunity to make a snide remark on Harry's slovenly ways; he hadn't even insulted Harry's clothes. That's what usually led to the stripping of said clothes to spare Draco the sight of them; then Harry would get too caught up in long fingers unbuttoning his trousers and nails scraping down his chest to think of a proper retort--to think of much of anything at all.

Harry sat and took a sip of brandy. He discovered he didn't much like brandy. Too sweet.

"That's all you have to say?"

Harry must have said his last thought aloud because he found Draco peering at him over his snifter. Draco's tone was calm, but annoyance tightened the corners of his eyes.

"What do you want me to say?"

"She's given me an heir." Draco crossed his legs and brushed an imaginary piece of lint off his knee before smoothing his trousers down. "It's not as if we need to keep up appearances. Maintaining a façade of marriage is not going to restore the Malfoy name."

Harry didn't want to have this conversation any more than he wanted to drink the brandy, but it was clear Draco was in no hurry to move on. Not until Harry responded the way Draco wanted him to. If Draco would only tell him, Harry would be happy to say whatever Draco wanted--anything to get past this and lose himself in Draco's lips, his touch; that was the only thing that kept the guilt at bay, and Harry didn't want to feel guilty in this place, too. He spent too much of his life feeling guilty.

"What about Scorpius? He's just a baby."

"Scorpius will be fine. He'll still see his mother, and I dare say this will be a…happier home if his father is happy, wouldn't you agree?"

"I guess."

"The papers are all drawn up." Draco placed his glass on the table and stood, crossing over to Harry's discarded robe. "I only have to sign them."

Draco picked up the robe. Harry blinked. It took a moment or two for Harry to realise that Draco was heading to the bedroom; he was too busy trying to make sure his eyes had not deceived him.

Harry had never seen Draco pick up an item of clothing in his life--certainly not Harry's clothes, which Harry normally took great pains to scatter around the suite unable to resist irritating Draco. Draco never picked up after him; typically he called a House-Elf in to clean their mess while Harry was starkers, then cackled as Harry scrambled under the covers or darted behind the nearest piece of furniture.

Harry abandoned his brandy and caught up in time to see Draco hanging Harry's robe in his wardrobe.

"Once they're signed, I'll be free. We won't have to hide."

"What are you on about?"

"We can purchase that London flat, if you like. I know you hate it here." Draco met Harry in the centre of the room. He brushed his fingers over Harry's collar, then began to unbutton Harry's shirt, his fingers slipping each button through its loop. Draco had never been this careful undressing Harry before, but Harry was grateful for the distraction.

"Yeah, all right, but we'll still have to…I'm still married." Harry focused on Draco's light touch, whether it tickled or itched, but Draco wouldn't be quiet; he leaned close, his breath hot against Harry's lips, and his voice dropped to a whisper.

"You don't have to be."

"What?"

"You don't have to be."

All Harry wanted was to shut Draco up with a kiss and get on with the fucking already so he could forget whatever Draco was trying to say, but when Harry titled his head, Draco pulled just far enough away to keep their lips apart, though his fingers never wavered, still steadily sliding down Harry's shirt. His knuckles grazed the sparse hair above Harry's navel. Harry's stomach jumped.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're not happy." Draco freed the tails of Harry's shirt from where they were trapped in Harry's waistband. "If you were, we wouldn't be fucking three times a week."

Draco flattened his hands over Harry's stomach. Harry wanted to look away, but he couldn't escape the piercing grey eyes that dared Harry to deny those words.

"I can't."

Draco turned taking the warmth of his palms with him, and Harry hated how much he could miss a simple touch.

"I thought you Gryffindorks were supposed to be brave."

"What? This has nothing to do with…you know I can't leave her." Harry's chest tightened like there was a hand clasped around his heart, and he didn't want to talk about this--they weren't supposed to talk about things that existed in the outside world. Not here. This place was separate.

"Why?" Draco faced him again, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his arms was as clear as any emotion Draco could ever wear on his face.

"James, Al--they're too young. They wouldn't understand-"

"Do you think it will be easier when they're older? Or do you just plan on living out this farce forever?"

"No--I-" Harry closed his eyes to block out Draco's stare, but he could still feel Draco's eyes boring into him. "I don't know."

"You don't love her." Draco's touch was back, a brush of fingers over the knob of Harry's wrist, and it was enough to make Harry crave more. "You told me that the first night we were together. You tell me every night we're together."

Draco's voice dropped to a whisper, his lips close to Harry's ear, but no matter how Harry strained, Draco held back, leaving Harry with only the hope of contact. "Isn't it time for you to finally get what you want?"

Draco stepped back and Harry let out a shaky breath.

"Unless I'm mistaken."

Harry opened his eyes and found Draco unbuttoning his shirt in the same cool measured way he'd unbuttoned Harry's moments earlier, and every cell in Harry's body screamed to snatch Draco close and tear it off himself.

"What do you want, Harry?"

"You know what I want."

"Tell me."

There was a challenge in Draco's voice--an echo of the dares that had faced Harry throughout their Hogwarts years, that Harry could never resist--and in two strides, Harry closed the distance between them and yanked Draco close by two fistfuls of his shirt. He crashed their lips together; his body sang out in joy, and for a moment he could imagine this without all of the guilt: Draco flush against him, all hard angles and heat, his fingers tangled in Harry's thick hair--it wouldn't have to be a dirty little secret, a need that Harry carefully tucked away and buried under day-to-day life. He could have this, always.

Draco broke their kiss and eased out of Harry's grasp. His pink cheeks mirrored the warmth on Harry's, but when Harry reached to gather him close again, Draco pushed him away.

"You need to tell her."

"Draco-"

"I know you want to."

Harry's heart thudded in his ears, and it was from more than just the interrupted kiss. He'd happily face a dozen Death Eaters, or a dozen Voldemorts, rather than sit down and tell--God, he couldn't even think her name--not here. She didn't belong here.

"I'll help you."

"How are you going to-"

"We can practise. Have a test-run if you like. Just pretend I'm her." Draco grimaced, but the frown vanished so quickly that Harry wouldn't have questioned its existence if he didn't know Draco so well.

"You're going to-"

"What is she normally doing when you come home?"

"She…I don't know."

"Think. Three nights ago, we had spectacular sex, you left and I assume Apparated home?"

Harry closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, though it only served as a reminder of where Draco's fingers had just been, where they could be now if Draco hadn't cut things off a moment ago. He pushed the thought away and took a deep breath.

"Yeah. To the foyer."

"And she was…?"

"The kids were already in bed. She was on the sofa. Reading."

"Was she waiting for you to get home?"

"Yeah. No-" Harry's eyes popped open. "What do you mean?"

"Was she waiting up for you? Did she just have the book there as something to do or would she have been reading even if you had come home at a normal time?"

"Why?"

"I'm trying to get into character."

Harry searched Draco's gaze and he saw the suspicion lingering behind the grey and with it came a stark realisation, sinking in Harry's stomach. "You think she already knows, don't you?"

"Maybe. You run a charity, Harry. How many late-night meetings could you possibly have?"

"Fuck…she never said. She would have said something, right? Fuck-"

"Calm down." Draco reached out and smoothed his palm over Harry's forearm, then encircled Harry's wrist and led him back to the sitting room. "You're going to tell her tonight, anyway, so it doesn't much matter."

~

A few minutes later, Harry was fully dressed again and back outside the door to Draco's suite while Draco waited on the other side, seated in his armchair. It wasn't much different than when Harry had first arrived, only the brandy was gone, Draco was reading a book in its place, and Harry was supposed to call him Ginny.

This was mental.

"Fuck. All right." Harry exhaled a deep breath, then opened the door.

"Hey…I'm home."

"Snookums!" Draco twisted his features into clown-like excitement as he snapped his book closed and bounced in the chair, reminding Harry more of little James than his wife. "I've missed you!"

"She doesn't call me that--and she doesn't do that. With her face."

"Well." Draco settled back in his chair and flipped the book open in his lap. "What does she call you then?"

"Er…Harry?"

"Just Harry? After all these years you two don't have sickly sweet pet names?"

"Love, sometimes, I guess? I call her Gin."

"Gin." There was a flash of something behind Draco's eyes, but it was gone in the moment that Harry blinked, and Draco waved him back out of the room. "Let's start again."

~

"Hi, I'm home. You still up?"

"Hi, _Harry_." Draco somehow managed to sound sultry even as he pitched his voice higher than normal. He looked up from his book and gave Harry a small smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Long day?"

"Er…yeah. I guess." Harry knew he was supposed to be pretending Draco was Ginny, but Draco was tracing the edge of the book with his finger, then smoothing his palm over the spine, curling his hand over the corner as he slid his tongue out to wet his lower lip--and that wasn't on. That just wasn't fair at all.

"You know, the meeting was…I can't. This isn't working."

"What do you mean, _Harry_?"

"No--stop being her. She doesn't sound like that--she doesn't try to seduce me with the book."

"Well, that's one problem with your marriage."

"Draco-"

"Fine." Draco shut the book and placed it on the table as he stood. "You be her and I'll be you."

"What--that doesn't make any sense."

"You know her and I know you. We should have done it that way in the first place."

"But-"

"Harry. Trust me."

~

Harry sat stiffly in the armchair, not paying any attention to the book that lay open at his lap even though he knew he was supposed to be reading it, or pretending to read it, or some kind of nonsense like that. But he shouldn't be so tense should he? Ginny never seemed tense when he came home, but maybe she was until she heard the pop of Apparition, then she made sure she looked comfortable and carefree when Harry walked in.

Harry shifted in the chair.

"Hi, Gin. I'm home. Are you still up?"

"Hey." Harry looked up from the book to find Draco standing over him with a particular smile that Harry had never seen on Draco's lips before. It was warm with a trace of affection, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Er…long day?"

"The usual."

Harry automatically tilted his head like Ginny did when she was angling for a kiss; Draco hesitated for a moment, then brushed his lips over the corner of Harry's mouth. "The kids asleep?"

"Oh…yes, they're asleep."

"Good." Draco slid the book from Harry's hands and set it on the table. "We need to talk."

"All right. But I was just about to go to bed myself. Can we talk there?" Harry stood and slipped his hand into Draco's, leaning forward for another kiss. Draco jerked his head back and nerves fluttered in Harry's stomach. "Don't you want to kiss me?"

Draco darted his eyes back and forth, refusing to meet Harry's gaze, and Harry wasn't sure if they were still acting or not, but he tried to think of what Ginny would do, and he lifted his hand, running his fingers over Draco's cheek.

"What's wrong?"

Draco snatched Harry's hand, but didn't push it away. He just held it there, against his cheek, his eyes finally coming to rest on Harry's.

"Is this what she's like? Always trying to kiss you."

"Yeah--Draco…she's my wife."

"Do you fuck her after you fuck me?"

"What?" Harry struggled to pull his hand away, but Draco clamped down on his fingers, holding him in place. "No, most of the time--no, we don't--not the same night."

"Most of the time. But this 'talking in bed' she suggests, she really just wants to fuck, doesn't she?"

"No, that's not what she means. I don't--we shouldn't be talking about this."

"She will tonight. She'll know."

"Dra-" Harry's voice was swallowed by Draco's lips, and soon he forgot what he was going to say or why he'd been struggling to get away because Draco's tongue was finally in his mouth, marking him with every lick. Insistent fingers tore at Harry's shirt and Harry shoved his hands between them, fumbling with Draco's trousers, his mind belting, _Yes, finally,_ when suddenly Draco slowed their kiss, winding his tongue around Harry's, easing Harry's shirt over his shoulders until it fell to the floor.

"Let's go to bed," he whispered against Harry's lips.

~

"What does she do?" Draco straddled Harry's thighs, his erection jutting out a whisper away from Harry's.

"What?" Harry let out a raspy breath as Draco palmed the length of Harry's cock; he tried to arch into Draco's touch, but Draco clamped his legs, trapping Harry in place on the bed.

"Foreplay. Does she suck you?" Draco dipped down and swirled his tongue around the crown leaving a slick path that rapidly cooled without the warmth of Draco's breath to keep the chill at bay. Harry bit back a whine as Draco eyed him from his crouched position.

"Does she suck you?"

"Fuck--Draco, what does it matter?"

Draco answered by drawing the head between his lips and Harry squirmed beneath his thighs, aching to thrust into that heat, but Draco's hands pinned Harry's hips to the mattress even as his tongue invited Harry inside with teasing flicks, sneaking down below the crown.

With a soft pop, Draco's mouth was gone. Harry exhaled a breathless plea, but Draco ignored him, crawling up to hover over Harry, now with only the weight of his gaze to keep Harry still. Harry curled his fingers into the sheets. His cock twitched as Draco's shaft grazed over the head, but the command in Draco's eyes was clear: Harry was not to move.

Draco traced a finger over Harry's lips. "She's not much for foreplay, is she?" He pressed his finger into Harry's mouth before Harry could tell him to stop--stop with these insane questions because he didn't want her here--she didn't belong here. "Probably likes to go straight to it."

Harry scraped his teeth over Draco's knuckle as he withdrew and Draco smiled.

"Can't we just-"

"Shh." Draco silenced Harry with a light kiss. His lips lingered; warm breath ghosted over Harry's mouth, until Draco inhaled sharply and jerked back, then Harry could see Draco's arm stretched behind him. He rocked slowly, the head of his cock skimming over Harry's as he fingered himself, letting out a faint moan that echoed Harry's need.

"Can I--I want-" Harry lay his palm flat against Draco's chest

"Wait." Draco's eyes fluttered closed for a bare moment, and it was only this close that Harry could see his pale lashes and the light spring of sweat between his brows.

Draco shifted to kneel over Harry and he grasped the base of Harry's cock. "She'll try to fuck you tonight."

"Draco-" Harry dropped his hands to Draco's thighs, digging his fingers into Draco's skin as Draco teased him with a tight circle of his hips, rubbing his slick entrance against the head of Harry's cock. "Please-"

"Even though she knows it's a lie." Ever so slowly Draco guided him inside. Harry held his breath, his eyes locked on Draco's gaze, and he tried to lose himself in Draco's heat as he'd always been able to before, but Draco wouldn't let him--not tonight.

Draco went perfectly still save for the tremble in his chest from shallow breaths and whispered words. "Will you?"

"Will I, what?" Harry cursed the weakness in his voice, but all his strength was used up fighting his body's need to thrust.

"Fuck her before you tell her."

Harry swallowed back a shaky breath; his palms were sweaty and he struggled to hold on but his fingers slipped off Draco's thighs and fell to the bed. "No--I won't."

"Promise me." Draco rocked his hips once, giving Harry just a taste of friction that brought a groan to his lips, but it was over as quickly as it had begun.

"Promise me," Draco whispered again, and Harry finally knew the words that Draco had wanted him to say from the moment he'd walked in the door. They were written over Draco's face, in the sharp angle of his jaw, the way his lips were slightly parted, the dusting of pink high on his cheeks. Harry could pretend this was just about having sex with his wife--that would be a lie, and Harry was far too comfortable with lies nowadays, but the truth shone so clearly in the desperation colouring Draco's eyes. _Choose me_, they said, but Draco had no idea what that choice would mean.

But Harry couldn't let him go.

"I promise."

Draco began to move, riding Harry with steady strokes, and Harry closed his eyes and tried to forget what those two words would cost him.


End file.
